


Call Me Lena (Oneshot)

by Classic_Quill



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24846331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classic_Quill/pseuds/Classic_Quill
Summary: Tracer deals with the depression of her break up with Emily, meanwhile Widowmaker plots her death.
Relationships: Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Call Me Lena (Oneshot)

Lena Oxton, better known as Tracer, sat in her apartment with eyes full of tears. Her girlfriend, Emily had just broken up with her two days before Christmas. Tracer’s illegal work has put a divide in their relationship. Emily was convinced Tracer couldn’t make the time to be her girlfriend and a vigilante.

Without much more thought, Tracer picked herself off the floor and within seconds she noticed the pizza sauce stain on her vest.

“Bullocks” Tracer said grumpily. This wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but she needs a device strapped on her chest to maintain a stable time flow and removing her clothes while keeping it on was a huge pain in the arse.

Tracer loosened the device and slid it down to her waist. She didn’t like being seen as just a fragile speedster. This didn’t help with her self-esteem. Especially not now.

She took off the jacket and lazily tossed it over the arm of her orange leather couch, she got it because it looked like Emily’s hair. Now it just makes her groan and she hasn’t sat in it since the break up.

She pulled the device back over her chest and tightened it.

She was just moping about in a t-shirt and her yellow skin tight pants that have won a lot of inappropriate comments. 

Unfortunately for Tracer, her situation was about to get worse.

————————————————————

Outside her window, a thermal scanner was tracking her every move. The cold-skinned French assassin was spying on Tracer, planning an attack.

Widowmaker watched Tracer plop herself down on her bed and decided to make her move. 

Quickly and with the precise moves of an acrobat, Widowmaker climbed up the fire escape and landed catlike on Tracer’s floor. 

She opened the window and snuck into the living room, to the left was the kitchen and the small hallway that led to Tracer’s room.

Widowmaker rummaged through Tracer’s stuff, looking for some quick info. Just in case.

She found a box full of passports and i.d’s, some of them fake.

Among them a pilot’s license with “Lena Oxton” printed on it. 

The next was a library card with the name “Cara Theobold” on it.

Widow saw a few more with just the name “Emily” written on it. That’s what she could make out, it was scratched up, with her last name completely torn up.

After taking a few pictures, Widowmaker made her way to Tracer’s room to finish her off.

She opened the door and Tracer looked a bit slobbish. Pizza and strawberry ice cream were scattered on the floor and the bottom of her belly was sticking out of her shirt. Widow looked highly disappointed that this was how she was going to kill her long time rival.

For a moment Widow considered giving her a fair fight and unbelievably she actually wanted to follow through. 

Widowmaker went to the side of the bed and tapped the back of her hand on her sleeping face. 

“Wake up, Cheri.” Widow said with her pet name to address Tracer.

She woke up quickly and pulled a Pulse Pistol from under her pillow. Tracer gazed up at the assassin and dropped her pistol.

“I don’t care anymore, go ahead.” Tracer said with a tear falling down her left eye. She turned back to her pillow and laid back down on the pillow as if the intruder was no longer there.

Widow was stunned, this was not the rival she loathed, but had at least respected.

A leather gloved hand swiped across Tracer’s face. 

“Ow! What was that for then?” Tracer asked with the most emotion she’s felt in days.

“I was going to off you and you couldn’t care less. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!” Widow shouted in fury. 

Tracer looked up at her and wiped her tears away. “Wh-what?” She asked.

“What is wrong with you?” Widowmaker asked.

Tracer stammered but maintained some of her anger. 

“I’m… my love left me… my girlfriend, Emily.” Tracer said, full of passive rage. “Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Tracer asked, both like she wanted it and like she was confused.

“Cry me a river, if you wanted to be dead, you would’ve broken that blinky thing on your chest.” Widowmaker said, honestly pissed off.

Tracer couldn’t deny the truth in her words. “I’m worthless.” Tracer said. “I don’t deserve to be a Hero.” 

Widowmaker, completely aware of her hypocrisy, spoke against this; “nobody deserves to die either.”

“You’re all talk and no trousers then.” Tracer said, still really peeved.

“My pants are still on, is that not appropriate?” Widow asked, genuinely confused.

“Said the actress to the bishop.” Tracer said, in a better mood.

Widowmaker shot her another confused look. “Dumb arse.” Tracer said with a snicker.

“Hey?” Tracer asked.

“Yes?” Widow replied.

“Would you like to stay, for christmas?” Tracer asked with a softer smile.

“You’re legitimately insane… I just tried to kill you.” Widowmaker pointed out.

“Lots of people do, none of them have been this nice.” Tracer pointed out.

“Cheri…”

“Call me Lena.”


End file.
